


La Petite Mort

by daltoneering



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Deepthroating, FaceFucking, Innocence, M/M, Mentions of past Blaine/Sebastian, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daltoneering/pseuds/daltoneering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine finally feels like he knows who and what he is, and wants to find out what it means to be submissive. But when he meets Kurt at a BDSM club, he discovers he may be in for a lot more than just a quick demonstration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Petite Mort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missbeizy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/gifts).



> I started this when I found out it was missbeizy's birthday a couple of weeks ago. I really should have made an effort to finish it earlier, but I'm a lazy slob. Anyway, here it is. AT LAST. Big thanks to [Jess](http://mypatronusisklaine.tumblr.com) and [Rose](http://chatterboxrose.tumblr.com) for looking over this <3
> 
> Read on tumblr | [LJ](http://kirwanraemus.livejournal.com/2449.html)

It’s only a short walk from the subway station to the club, but it’s the most nervous of Blaine’s life.

He nearly stops and turns around twice, hesitating on the sidewalk or outside a cozy-looking coffee shop, seriously considering just throwing all his plans to the wind and hiding away with a warm latte and his iPod for the evening. But he has been processing this for months, and it’s only this week that he’s finally summed up enough courage to just pull himself together and get out there.

He probably should have realized that he was into this stuff ages ago, when he used to get turned on (and subsequently horrified at himself) watching police chases on late-night TV in the dark of his living room, at the way the cops would just grab someone and _slam_ them against the side of the car, the chink of the handcuffs, the rough words. It was only after his first slightly disastrous attempt at a relationship in his senior year of high school that he actually began to think he needed something more (and not that Sebastian hadn’t been perfectly willing to hold him down against a bed or get him on his knees at any given opportunity, but he was such a giant asshole that there was no way Blaine was staying with him). And then a series of late nights blushing at his google search bar and guiltily jerking himself raw to pornos had finally led him to the decision that was indeed submissive, and needed to do something about it.

Which led him to where he is now. He stops in front of the dark door of the club—there are a few people standing around smoking, and a burly bald guy standing with his arms crossed by the door—and looks up at the flickering neon lights. _The Crucible_. He swallows, and approaches the bouncer.

He hands over his ID, thankful that this place is alcohol free and therefore open to under 21s—he’d done a lot of research beforehand. The man checks it over, then grunts and hands it back to him. He pays his $20 and nervously opens the door.

There’s a short, nondescript corridor, then he rounds a corner and is brought to a stop, eyes wide.

There are so many different things going on, he doesn’t know where to look first. There’s a woman strapped to a giant frame, head thrown back in pleasure as her Dom brings a flogger down repeatedly across her back. There are cages here and there, some in use, and an assortment of tables and benches with varying degrees of activity happening on them. A man nearby groans loudly enough that Blaine turns his head to watch, eyes widening and something jolting in his chest at the bright red drops of wax cooling on his back.

In the middle of the room, a stage is set up, a scene involving three women and riding crop in place. Most people who are not occupied elsewhere are gathered round watching.

Someone comes out of the corridor behind him, prompting Blaine to jump and move away from where he had been blocking the entrance. Avoiding eye contact or even looking much at anything, he shuffles nervously across the room, finding an empty couch in a corner and lowering himself down.

He folds his hands in his lap, ears hot at the scenes going on the room. There’s a low, pulsing music playing in the background, sensual lighting coming from the dark red neon tubes hanging from the ceiling. Most of the people he can see are dressed in leather (and very little of it), or similar revealing costumes. He shifts awkwardly, feeling a little overdressed, even in his [new black bowtie](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/hugo-hugo-boss-eco-faux-leather-bow-tie/3551917) and tight-fitted button down.

He hopes that coming here was a good idea. He had no other idea about how to meet anyone into this kind of thing, apart from looking online, and—well, he prefers to get to know someone face to face if he’s going to be trusting them to command him around.

Oh, God, that thought alone—someone tall and powerful, standing over him, telling him to _do_ things—sends arousal pooling in his belly and something fluttering in his chest.

He crosses his legs and considers going over to the bar on the far wall for a drink. He knows they don’t do booze here (one of the only ways they could stay open and legal), but a can of coke to pass the time until he has the courage to go up and talk to someone is starting to sound like a good idea.

Then suddenly there is a pair of very attractive legs in his line of view and that thought goes right out the window.

“Hey,” says a voice, high and clear but underlain with confidence. Blaine represses a shudder and looks up, face red.

There’s a man standing in front of him, well-dressed in a tight V-neck shirt and even tighter jeans, hair carefully styled and face absolutely _gorgeous_. He’s got a black cuff around his left wrist, standing with his feet a little apart, and he radiates dominance.

Blaine opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He clears his throat nervously. “Hi,” he squeaks.

The man regards him for a moment with a soft expression, then turns round and drops onto the couch beside him. Blaine feels his muscles tense up.

“So,” says the guy, leaning his elbows forwards on his knees and turning to look at Blaine. “What’s your name?”

“I—Blaine,” he responds, clutching his fingers together tightly. The guy must notice his edginess, because he smiles genuinely at him and holds at hand to shake.

“Hello, Blaine. My name’s Kurt.”

“Nice to meet you.” His grip is firm and warm, soothing.

Kurt stares at Blaine for a while, then leans back against the couch. “So why choose this place for your first experience of the scene?” he asks.

“I—um, how can you—tell?” He laughs nervously.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about you that… I don’t know.” He pauses and twists a grin at him. “Relax, you’re doing fine. You’re under no obligation to do anything but just sit here.”

Blaine swallows, nods. “I can’t say I’m not relieved. I mean, some of the things they’re doing—not that I have any problem with them, but. Um. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.”

Kurt nods understandingly and pats his knee. He leaves his hand there for a moment, catching Blaine’s eye. Then he glances at the bar on the far side of the room. “Do you want a drink? They make _awesome_ lemonade here.”

“Oh, uh—okay, shall I—“ He fumbles for his wallet, already mentally preparing himself to walk across the room again to the bar.

“Whoa, whoa, not so fast,” says Kurt, grabbing his hands and nudging him back onto the sofa. Blaine looks at him in shock. “I’ll get them, okay? You wait right here, I’ll be back in a minute.” He smiles and quickly strokes over Blaine’s wrist before standing up and striding over to the other side of the room.

Blaine sits, a little stunned, but waits for his return quietly. He can just see the maroon of Kurt’s shirt among the crowd at the bar, and focuses on it. He never would have guessed that even a small interaction like this could get him so riled up.

Kurt returns with a couple of cans of coke and cracks Blaine’s open for him.

“Thanks,” says Blaine. “I’ll pay you back for it, here—“

“No,” says Kurt firmly. “I said I was getting them. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh. Okay.” He sips his coke and looks over at Kurt, relaxed and leaning back on the sofa, arm resting along the back.

“So what brings you to New York?” Kurt asks.

They get talking and Blaine explains about how he’s in his first year at NYADA after moving here from Ohio. He’s surprised to find out that Kurt is from Ohio too, but had gone to Parsons for fashion design. Blaine tells him about Dalton and the Warblers, and apparently Kurt was in Glee club as well, although a few years earlier, so they never would had met at competitions. He talks about his brother Cooper, filming in LA, and his often absent parents. Kurt frowns at him.

“I mean, it’s not a huge deal, they just—aren’t always there,” he says, glancing down at his feet. He feels a hand rest warm on the back of his neck, and is slightly surprised to find himself relaxing into the touch. Kurt strokes slowly over his skin, fingers tickling the base of his hair. Blaine glances up at him, and swallows when he sees Kurt’s dark gaze.

“They shouldn’t be doing that, leaving you alone when you’re still in high school.” He pauses, hand tightening on the back of Blaine’s neck. “Sorry. Just—my mom died when I was little, and my dad’s had some health scares. It really drives home the meaning of showing people you love them while they’re still around, you know?”

Blaine nods, eyes drifting down to the pale skin revealed by the V of Kurt’s shirt. Kurt catches his glance and smirks, leaning in slightly.

“Tell you what, Blaine,” he says softly. Blaine looks up quickly, Kurt’s face close to his. “You’re new to the Scene, right?”

Blaine gulps and nods as Kurt moves closer, close enough that he’s breathing into Blaine’s ear. “Has anyone ever Dominated you before, Blaine?”

Blaine chokes on a breath of air and squeezes his eyes closed. “N-no, not really.”

“Hmm.” The hand on his neck moves up to the back of his head and Blaine ducks it, pressing his forehead against the skin of Kurt’s collarbone, trying to get a grip on his breathing. He has no idea why he’s so affected but he just—he _needs_ —

“Why don’t you come back to my apartment with me, and I’ll give you a little introduction?” Kurt whispers in his ear.

Blaine whines softly and nods frantically against Kurt’s chest.

Kurt only lives a few blocks away, so they walk, Blaine tucked up against Kurt’s side with an arm around his waist. It’s a little chilly out, but he barely feels it, concentrated as he is on the warm expanse of Kurt pressed against his side.

The doorman shows them in, nodding graciously at Kurt and even going as far as calling the elevator for them. Blaine peers around the lobby from his position against Kurt’s pectoral; it’s a beautiful and fancy building. Kurt must be doing well to live here.

In the elevator, he’s nervous and twitchy, pulling away from Kurt a little to put his hands in his pockets. Kurt must notice how he’s withdrawing, because he slides a palm up and down his back, soothing him, resting it at the base of his spine.

They go all the way up to the penthouse. Blaine is a little surprised—Kurt really _must_ be well-off—but waits patiently as Kurt finds the key for the front door and unlocks it.

The inside of his apartment is sumptuously decorated, all matching colours and assorted furniture meticulously arranged in the open space. The far wall is entirely made of glass, a huge window looking out on the lights of the city below.

“Here we are,” says Kurt, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. Blaine hastens to follow, letting Kurt help him out of the last sleeve and hang his jacket.

They face each other silently for a moment, then Blaine takes a deep breath and steps closer. “So,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “What should—what do you want me to do?”

Kurt’s hand comes up to cup the back of his neck, petting it gently. He straightens, position changing, becoming something a lot more commanding. Blaine shivers.

“You’re going to go take a shower,” he says, soft but firm. “First door on the right. You can use whatever you want, but make sure you clean properly and thoroughly. Then, you’re going to wait for me in the bedroom, however you feel most comfortable. Door at the end of the corridor. You have twenty minutes. Okay?”

Blaine glances up at him, meets his dark gaze. “Yes,” he says, then adds quietly, “…Sir.”

Kurt smiles and pats his neck. “Go.”

Blaine hurries to do as Kurt ordered, barely letting the bathroom door swing shut behind him before stripping his clothes and turning on the shower. He steps in under the spray and immediately starts washing out his hair gel.

He’s done with about ten minutes to spare and glances at his clothes folded neatly by the sink. Surely there’s not much point putting them on again if he’s just going to be taking them off later, right?

He dries himself quickly and pulls on just his pair of boxers.

Kurt’s room is amazing. Almost twice the size of his college dorm, big windows stretching across the left wall, tastefully decorated in simple, masculine colours. It’s dominated by a big, queen-sized bed, and Blaine blushes when he notices how sturdy the frame looks.

He hesitates on where to wait, whether he should stay on the floor or climb onto the bed. Eventually, he decides on the bed, crawling halfway up the mattress and settling into a kneeling position facing the door.

There are butterflies in his stomach, but he tamps them down, trying to control his breathing and posture as he waits for Kurt. The position—knees spread, head bowed, hands on his thighs—feels natural to him, and he focuses on the strain on his legs to calm himself.

It feels like he’s been waiting for a lot longer than ten minutes when the door finally opens. He doesn’t look up, using his hearing to determine Kurt’s movements around the room.

Finally, a pair of feet come into his line of sight. He stares at Kurt’s socks for a moment, neither of them moving, then—

“Look at me, Blaine.”

He lifts his head, eyes drifting up Kurt’s body (slim but broad and trim and _strong_ ) until he meets his eyes. They’re dark, watching him intensely. Kurt steps closer, until he’s at the foot of the bed.

“What are your safewords?” he asks.

Blaine panics momentarily. He didn’t think of that beforehand, he should have prepared, should have—

Kurt must see the worry in his eyes because he knees onto the bed, reaching out to place a hand on Blaine’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he reassures him. “We can just go with the generic ones. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go. Got it?”

Blaine nods silently.

“Use your words, Blaine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Then he leans in and kisses him.

It’s soft and gentle, but there’s a pressure and firmness behind it that makes Blaine’s skin tingle. He closes his eyes, lets Kurt lead him in the kiss, cupping his jaw in both hands and sliding his tongue out to open his mouth. Then it gets heavier, deeper and dirtier as Kurt takes what he wants, tipping Blaine’s head back and sucking on his lips with vigour.

When they part, Kurt’s eyes are clouded, and they’re both breathing heavily. Kurt shuffles closer until his knees are slotted between Blaine’s and slides his hands down his bare chest. Blaine retains a whimper, fingers clenching on his thighs. Kurt hasn’t given him permission to touch yet.

Kurt laughs softly, drifting his fingers down Blaine’s thighs until they’re on his hands. He takes them in his, placing them on his chest. Blaine watches, wide-eyed, fingers tracing slightly over the firmness of Kurt’s muscles under his shirt. “You can definitely touch,” says Kurt, then they go back to kissing.

When they pull apart again, he’s got his hands under Kurt’s shirt, fingers trembling on the smooth skin beneath them. Kurt smiles at him and trails a finger up his spine, kissing gently along his jaw and to his ear. He sucks on the lobe a little, then breathes hotly, “Take my shirt off.”

Blaine hesitates a little, glancing up at Kurt, who twitches the corner of his lips in a smile and nods slightly. Blaine takes a deep breath, and slides his palms up Kurt’s sides, pushing his shirt up as he goes, then pulling it off over his head and tossing it off the bed.

“Mm,” says Kurt, leaning in to suck at his jaw again. “Next time you’ll be folding that up.”

Blaine’s heart soars at the mention of _next time_ , and he pulls back a little to press a soft kiss to Kurt’s mouth. He’s only intending it to be a silent _thank you_ , but then Kurt grabs the back of his hair, tipping his head back and leaning over to kiss him deeply and ferociously. He thrusts his tongue into Blaine’s mouth, forcing him down until he has to use a hand to prop himself up, then grunts and pushes him further until he’s lying back on the bed with Kurt hovering over him.

They finally part, and Blaine gasps, lungs straining for the air Kurt’s kiss had denied him. Kurt sits up, straddling his hips now, and drags his fingernails down Blaine’s bare chest. They dip into his waistband and Blaine squeaks, fingers tightening in the sheets. He smirks at Blaine, then removes his hands, leaning forward to give Blaine a brief kiss. His fingers tickle over Blaine’s neck, down to his collarbone, and Kurt hums into his mouth.

“What happened to that lovely bowtie?” he asks, fingers tracing sensually over the skin of Blaine’s neck, thumb dragging over his Adam’s apple. He kisses Blaine again, then breathes against his lips, “But it doesn’t matter. We can find you something else.”

Then suddenly Kurt is up, moving off the bed and standing up. “Get up,” he commands, hands on his hips and feet planted apart. God, he looks amazing like that, well-defined muscles lean under the pale skin of his torso. Blaine can only begin to imagine what he looks like with his pants off.

He shuffles off the bed, immediately and unconsciously falling to his knees at Kurt’s feet, hands tight on his thighs and head bowed. He looks down at Kurt’s black socks, relaxed but anticipating.

Then there’s a hand in his hair again, sinking into his still-damp curls, fingers brushing over the back of his neck. The gentle weight of Kurt’s hand sends tingles down his spine, alighting his nerve endings, making his eyelashes flutter. He inhales deeply, breath shuddering, and leans forward under the press of Kurt’s hand, until he’s only a few inches away from the bulge straining at the front of his pants.

“Undo them,” Kurt commands, fingers tightening in his hair, pushing his head forwards and making his nose brush over the line of his cock. “No hands.” Blaine shudders.

He glances up at Kurt, who is watching him with a dark gaze, and latches his teeth over the button of his jeans. Kurt smirks slightly, and nods.

He goes slowly, and manages to pop the button with only a little trouble, revealing a teasing trail of hair disappearing behind the waistline of Kurt’s underwear. He takes the tab of the zipper between his teeth, and keeps his eyes on Kurt’s as he drags it down slowly. The sound ricochets around the room, sending shivers down his spine and a flush of heat to his cock.

Then the flaps of Kurt’s jeans are open, and he leans forward to mouth over the tight bulge of his cock. Kurt groans, massaging his fingers through Blaine’s curls, the other hand moving to push his jeans down to the floor. Blaine lets out a strangled sound when he sees the pale expanse of Kurt’s legs, shuffling forwards on his knees and redoubling his efforts.

Kurt tugs his head back, leaving him subconsciously straining to keep on licking, and dips a finger into the waistband of his jeans. He lowers them slightly, just over the jut of his hip, and Blaine chokes out a moan when he sees the dark line of a tattoo, a little blackbird, nestled right into the line of his V. “Go on,” whispers Kurt, pulling his head back towards his dick again. “Finish off.”

Blaine’s almost too fast at taking the top his briefs in his mouth, teeth and upper lip brushing over the soft skin of Kurt’s stomach. He yanks them down, just enough that Kurt’s cock can bounce up against his stomach, hard and purpling and a lot bigger than he’s seen before.

He just manages to hold in a squeak, and moves forward to take the tip into his mouth, but the hand in his hair stops him, lips less than an inch from Kurt’s cock.

“Ah-ah,” reprimands Kurt, tugging his head back even further and tipping it, so that he’s staring up at him, mouth open and hands clenched on his thighs. “Not yet.”

He releases Blaine and kicks his briefs off properly. “Get back on the bed,” he instructs, and Blaine hastens to comply. Kurt crawls on after him and settles him back against the pillows, arms loose by his sides and fingers twitching in the sheets.

Kurt straddles his chest, wraps a hand loosely around his cock, and twists a wry smile. “You look fucking amazing on your knees, you know.” He pauses. “How do you feel about being tied up?”

Blaine barely hesitates before nodding vigorously, eyes wide. The thought of being unable to touch because of Kurt’s restraints makes him feel so _right_. And sends another wave of arousal to his cock, tenting his boxers. “Green,” he says, voice coming out weak, then stronger. “Green, green, Sir, _please_.”

Kurt smiles and slides his hands down Blaine’s chest briefly before clambering off him again, all long legs and sexy grace. He goes over to a black chest against the wall and opens it. The _click_ resounds around the room. Blaine watches his hands disappear inside and return with two black leather cuffs.  He considers them for a moment, then reaches back into the chest and takes out a length of black silk as well.

The chest closes with a _thunk_ and then Kurt is sitting over Blaine’s chest again, cock hard and tempting and only a short distance from his mouth. He puts the cuffs down on the bed beside him and twists the silk around his hands. Blaine watches it curiously. Then Kurt smirks at him, and drags the loose end over his chest, leaving behind a blazing trail of goosebumps. Blaine’s heart is racing, fingers tight in the sheets.

“How about being blindfolded?” Kurt asks, voice low and raspy.

Blaine imagines it—how it would feel, knowing that Kurt is touching him and watching him without him being able to see it—and nods again. “Yes, please,” he says quietly.

“Okay.” Kurt picks up a cuff and slides his hand down Blaine’s arm, interlacing their fingers and dragging his hand up the bed, close to the horizontal slats in the headboard. He slides the cuff over Blaine’s fingers. The inside is warm, lined with something fluffy and soft. He tightens it around his wrist, not enough to stop any kind of circulation, but enough that it won’t slip off his hands if he tugs on it. He does the same with the other hand, and Blaine whimpers.

He feels so—vulnerable, spread out like this, utterly at Kurt’s mercy. But there’s something so freeing, so _releasing_ , at being tied up like this. It’s a feeling he’s never really felt before, and he wants to keep feeling it for the rest of his life.

Kurt bends over, hands on either side of his head, and brushes his lips over Blaine’s. Blaine shudders, leaning up to try and kiss him properly, but Kurt just pulls away again, teasing. He feels something slip over his shoulder, then Kurt is holding the black length of silk above his head, taught between his hands.

“Color?” he asks.

“Green.” Blaine’s breath shudders.

The silk is soft over his skin, blocking out most of the light and all his vision of Kurt. He whines as Kurt settles his head back on the pillows, arms pulling against his restraints, completely open for Kurt’s pleasure.

He feels Kurt move up his chest, then there’s a finger on his lips, pulling the lower one down and opening his mouth. He feels light, shivery, but in a good way. Kurt drags his thumb across his lip and down his chin, then slides a couple more into his loose mouth, moving them in and out, slicking spit all over his lips and down his chin.

He whines when Kurt’s fingers disappear, but he has a feeling he knows what’s coming next, so he waits obediently, mouth hanging open. Then there’s something brushing over his lips, and he realises it’s the tip of Kurt’s cock, mixing precome with the saliva. He gasps, lets his mouth drop open, and tips his head forwards to take the tip between his lips. Kurt’s hand threads through his hair, pulling him forwards, pushing his cock further into his mouth. Blaine moans around it, eyes squeezed tight behind the blindfold.

Kurt lets him bob his head back and forwards a bit, drawing off completely a couple of times so Blaine can catch his breath and swallow. Then he puts a hand on his forehead and pushes him back against the bed, baring his neck.

“I’m going to fuck your face,” he says, kneeling up over Blaine’s face. “Snap your fingers if you need to safeword. Practise now.”

Blaine nods and clicks his fingers a couple of times, then drops his mouth open, trying to relax as much as possible.

Kurt slides his dick into his mouth, hot and thick and heavy, and begins to thrust shallowly, fingers clenching in the curls on top of Blaine’s head. “Mm,” he groans. “Feels good. Your mouth.”

Then he begins moving faster, his cock slipping deeper and deeper with each thrust, until the head is nudging the back of his throat. Blaine tries to squash down the urge to gag, opening up his throat and letting Kurt _use_ him.

Kurt’s pants grow louder, knees pressed hot against the undersides of his arms, cock slipping in and out of his mouth and dragging saliva all over his lips and chin.

“Fuck, Blaine,” Kurt groans, slowing down a bit to allow Blaine to catch his breath before thrusting deeper, deep enough that Blaine feels his throat constricting around Kurt’s cock. There’s a hand on chest, drifting higher until Kurt’s fingers are brushing over his neck, hand settling at the base of his throat.

“Nod if this is okay,” Kurt whispers, voice tight, pulling out enough to allow Blaine to nod eagerly. His hand tightens around his throat and he thrusts his cock in again, deep in the back of his throat. Blaine is barely breathing now, just sucking short breaths in through his nose. He can feel snot dripping down onto his top lip, and the silk of the blindfold is wet with tears.

He feels fucking amazing.

Kurt’s pants get higher and higher, and he quickens the pace, thrusting shallower again and letting Blaine breathe.

“ _Ah_ , Blaine,” he gasps. “Gonna pull out and come all over your face.”

Blaine moans loudly. Then Kurt’s cock is gone and the blindfold is ripped off, the dim light of the room bright in his eyes. He blinks a couple of times, clearing the tears. Kurt is kneeling above him, one hand still on his head, and the other jerking fast around his cock, slick with saliva and precome.

Kurt tips his head back and cries out, skin flushed, and comes in long pearly strands all over Blaine’s cheeks and mouth and eyebrows. He squeezes his eyes shut just in time.

Kurt collapses against the headboard, panting, and laughs quietly. “God, that was hot,” he says weakly, shuffling back and looking down at Blaine. “You okay?” he asks.

Blaine licks around his lips, gathering up the come as seductively as possible, and sees Kurt’s pupils grow. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says.

Kurt leans down and kisses him, deep and dirty, sucking the come off his tongue and back into his own mouth. Then he reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing some tissues to clean up the drying come on Blaine’s face.

It’s only now that Blaine realises he’s still straining against his boxers. He had been so occupied with Kurt’s pleasure that he hadn’t even thought about himself, about his own release. But he’s suddenly very aware of it, and Kurt must notice too, because he glances down and raises an eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t come yet?” He looks impressed. “Good boy.” He kisses Blaine again as a reward, briefly, then slides down the bed and yanks off his boxers. Blaine blushes at the sudden movement, but Kurt settles between his knees, hands on his thighs. He bends over and drags his nose up the crook of his thigh, so close to his desperate cock, but not close enough. He presses a kiss to his hip, then attaches his mouth, sucking and biting at the spot. Blaine’s back arches in pleasure, and he wants to reach forward, sink his fingers into Kurt’s hair, but he’s tied up, at Kurt’s mercy.

He whines and slides his foot up Kurt’s calf. Kurt pulls off, leaving a dark bruise in his wake, and grabs his hips, pulling him up onto his lap. His hands dig into the soft skin of his thighs, tight enough that Blaine’s sure there will be marks later. Kurt’s fingers slide down next to his cock, over his perineum, and brush over his hole. Blaine moans and tips his head back against the pillows, biting his lip.

“Tell me, Blaine,” Kurt says slowly, thumb still brushing so hotly over his entrance. “Has anyone ever fucked you before?”

His mind flashes to hurried blowjobs in a bathroom stall and handjobs under the library table, but he’d never trusted Sebastian enough to let him go that far.

“N-no,” he gasps, voice raspy. Kurt hums and presses harder against his hole. Blaine sobs, eyes tight closed, cock dripping precome onto his belly.

“Well,” Kurt comments, sliding out from under his hips. The finger over his hole disappears, and then he feels hot breath against his perineum, and keens, heels digging into the mattress, willing himself not to come. Kurt’s lips brush over his skin, lower, lower, until his mouth is open against his hole. “Maybe it’s time we changed that,” Kurt whispers against his entrance, and Blaine whimpers, crossing his ankles over Kurt’s back and pushing his head down between his legs.

“Ple-please, Sir, please,” he pants, tears dripping off his cheeks and onto the pillows. “Please, fuck me, with your tongue or your fingers or your huge co- _oooohhh_.” He trails off into whimpers as Kurt flicks his tongue out, teasing his entrance, then clamps his mouth down over it, sucking and kissing and licking.

Blaine writhes on the bed, so, so desperate to come, but Kurt hasn’t given him permission yet. He tightens his feet behind Kurt’s head, breath catching as he starts to tease the tip of his tongue inside his hole, fingers brushing over his ass.

“Sir, please, I’m gonna, gon- _ah_ , come, please—“

Kurt reaches up and wraps his fingers tight around the base of his cock, stanching off the need just enough that he backs away from the edge. Kurt hums against his ass, dipping his tongue in deeper, but not deep enough. Blaine writhes, wrists straining against the cuffs. Kurt must sense his desperation, and he pulls away, chin covered in spit, pupils blown and face flushed.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks, dragging his middle finger up the wetness dripping down his crack and pressing it against his entrance. He leans forward, hand on the pillow beside his head, hovering over him. “Want me to fill you up with my cock?”

“Yes, I, yes, Sir, please—“

“Mm, you beg so prettily.” He disappears for a moment and returns with a bottle of lube and a condom, dropping both onto Blaine’s chest. “Maybe if you want it enough I’ll let you come.”

Blaine whines, legs twisting on the bed, feet sliding over Kurt’s calves and up to his thighs. Kurt laughs softly and grabs behind his knee, lifting his leg into the air and baring his hole. “You keep this up, you’re gonna need a spreader bar.” Blaine feels a jolt in his chest, excitement, a little trepidation, curiosity. “Maybe next time.”

Kurt squeezes some lube onto his fingers and trails them down over his belly, past his neglected cock, and to his entrance. He rubs over it gently, sending sparks through Blaine’s body, then presses in the tip of a finger.

It feels amazing. Blaine’s done this to himself before—hell, he has an eight inch dildo at home, thank you very much—but to have someone else touching him in this way is something he’s only ever dreamt of. Kurt starts moving his finger in and out slowly, pressing _inside_ him, penetrating him. He’s already a bit open from Kurt’s tongue, so it’s not long before there are two fingers pumping in and out of his ass, and then only a few minutes until three. His cock is red and hard, rock hard, pooling precome on his stomach. He longs to reach for it, circle his fingers around himself and tug only the couple of times that would be necessary to get him off. But he can’t, and he loves it.

The condom crinkles, and Kurt rolls it up his dick, lubing himself up then settling the head of his cock against Kurt’s hole. But he doesn’t press in yet, just leans forward and slides his palm over Blaine’s sweaty forehead, pressing a kiss to his cheek and smiling softly at him. “You’re doing so well, beautiful,” he whispers. “Now, I just want you to relax, okay? You’re safe here, you can let go.”

Blaine nods shakily, and Kurt kisses him briefly on the lips before kneeling up again and wrapping a hand around his cock.

He guides the head in gently, slowly, pressing until it slides past the first ring. Blaine moans, head dropping to the side, pressing his eyes closed against his arm. He already feels so full now, he can only begin to imagine what it’ll be like when Kurt is filling him up entirely.

“Good,” Kurt whispers, pressing a kiss to his knee, then slowly pushing in further. Blaine’s breath is coming lightly, and he locks his gaze onto Kurt’s, trying to stop his eyes from drifting shut.

Kurt begins rocking his hips, then, dragging his cock almost all the way out before thrusting in again slowly, deeper and deeper each time. Blaine lets his entire body go loose, feels like he’s sinking into the bed as Kurt fucks him, sinking, drifting, somehow not quite there. Everything starts to feel fuzzy, everything that’s not the slow drag of Kurt’s cock in his ass, against his prostate, the buzz of arousal sweeping in sweet waves under his skin. Even his own need becomes secondary, lost in the haze clouding his mind.

He drifts, moaning at the sensations coursing through his body, the heat and closeness and _emotions_. Kurt is here, he’s fucking him, taking care of him, letting him go, and feels so free that he could fly.

His eyes never leave Kurt’s, even though his vision’s gone blurry, whether with tears or just losing focus he doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care much about the rest of his body now, just Kurt around his wrists and Kurt in his ass and Kurt watching him.

At some point his knees are pressed back against his chest, and Kurt leans forward, fucking into him harder, each thrust sending a wave of feeling through his body. He whimpers, and Kurt leans down and kisses him, whispers things to him that he doesn’t hear properly but that sink into his mind and make him give himself up even more, beautiful and good and perfect.

Kurt’s thrusts start getting faster, and he’s panting against Blaine’s neck, lips warm and wet against his collarbone. A hand wraps around his cock, and even in Blaine fuzzy state he knows what that means, feels it as the arousal pools in his groin and threatens to burst out from his cock.

Kurt cries out, and bites down on his shoulder, hard, sending shivers of pleasure-pain down his back. He vaguely registers Kurt saying something to him, but the heat in his cock is too much, and he lets go, coming all over Kurt’s hand and his belly and his chest.

Kurt collapses on top of him for a few moments, then pushes himself up, pulling out and tying the condom off. Blaine feels empty, whines softly in the back of his throat, but Kurt pets over him, gently loosening the cuffs and helping him slip his fingers out.

As soon as his arms are free, he curls up into Kurt, tucking his face against his chest, warm and safe. He starts feeling a little less fuzzy, becomes aware of the soft fingers tracing over the skin of his back and the weight of the covers on top of them. He blinks a couple of times, and Kurt smiles at him serenely, hair mussed and beautiful.

“You nearly back with me?” he asks gently, and Blaine nods and snuggles closer, only now aware of how cold he is. There’s come drying on his stomach and his face still feels gross with tears and snot and drool, but he wouldn’t trade anything for being right here, right now, like this.

Kurt presses a kiss to his temple and slides away from him, off the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he promises. “I’m just going to get something to get you cleaned up.”

Blaine watches him leave the room, shamelessly naked, and lets his eyes drift shut. He trusts Kurt. He knows he isn’t leaving him.

He’s feeling very warm and sleepy when Kurt returns, ready to doze off, but then there’s a cool cloth on his belly and a gentle nudge for him to roll onto his back. Kurt helps him sit up against the pillows a little and hands him a juice box, then curls an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close against his chest.

“You did so well today, sweetheart,” he says softly, pressing a tender kiss into his hair. “I was so proud of you. I would never had guessed that you’ve never done this kind of thing before.” He cleans himself up as well and tosses the cloth onto the floor, then wraps both arms around Blaine, covering him. “Such a perfect sub,” he murmurs.

“You really think so?” Blaine says quietly, fiddling with the straw of his juice box.

“I know so,” Kurt replies, kissing his cheek. “You were so good and obedient.” He pauses, fingers trailing down Blaine’s neck, over the bruise left there by his mouth. “I was hoping… you’d be willing to maybe do this again. Would you like that?”

Blaine presses his lips together to conceal a grin and nods, burrowing himself deeper against Kurt’s side. “I would love that,” he whispers.

Kurt giggles, and takes his empty juice box, chucking it towards the trash can. “Good,” he replies. “I was hoping you would say that. Now, though,” he yawns, “I’m exhausted. You don’t mind staying over?”

Blaine grins and ducks his head. _I wouldn’t mind staying for the rest of my life_.

 


End file.
